


of summer and green and the smell of roses

by shokubeni



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, House Tyrell, M/M, all i do is writing sad stuff, i am obsessed with margaery and loras, that good old angst, this is so sad, tyrell siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shokubeni/pseuds/shokubeni
Summary: Loras misses Highgarden and the smell of the green grass





	

**Author's Note:**

> i found this while i was sorting my old writing livejournal, i am trying to move all my old writings here.  
> one day i will write something else and different from loras thinking about renly and being sad, but these two have a tragedy quality around them i cannot help
> 
> please follow me at [tumblr](http://whatisaniffler.tumblr.com/)

Loras’ dreams are always filled with blood and the white smiles of Renly, his calloused thumb touching his cheeks. The steamy nights they shared and the days they will never spend together. They are filled with childhood memories, the carefree laugh of his sister as they are running hand to hand around Highgarden. They are barefoot and the fresh, green, so green; grass feels soft against their toes. And it was way before her wedding and before Renly and they were just kids spending evenings out in the sun, whispering each other secrets and giggling at rumours and eating bloody oranges.  
Being summer kids and letting the grass be their mattress, their soil, their friend.

And often when Loras is looking at the vast city of King’s Landing from a window, he daydreams of home and his siblings, and misses everything so much he feels like he could weep like a baby. He misses home and Margaery’s innocence and the hand of Willas which always felt so warm against his shoulder, and Garlan’s lame, lame jokes.

And Loras thinks about the green of the grass, how fresh it felt around his body when he laid down on the ground. And he wishes to be barefoot again, running on it, with its smell filling his senses.  
He wishes to be anywhere but there.

He almost jumps when he feels a hand pressed against his forearm, but it’s more delicate and smaller than Willas’, even if the touch is similar, familiar, it’s the warmth of the sun and the smell of the flowers. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that it’s Margaery, and he finds her frowning as she looks at him. And she looks tired and worried and Loras curses under his breath because he can’t remember the last time he has seen his sister laughing so freely as she did back the day in their home town.

“What are you thinking about, dear brother?” She asks with a tilt of her head but her hand never leaves Loras’ arm and the young Knight presses his palm against hers, clammy because of all the humid weather and he shakes his head, his smile genuine but small, sad, layered.

“The grass.” Loras reply with a small shrug and Margaery looks at him like he has lost his mind, and Loras sometimes thinks he did. Maybe not his mind, but a part of himself is not entirely there since he lost Renly. It's far away, somewhere between the crook of Renly's neck and the colours of Highgarden. “The grass.” He repeats again and looks at her sister, drowning in the brown of her eyes and wishing for home, before looking again to King’s Landing with a heavy sigh.


End file.
